Curse of Chucky
by MoonlightSonata13
Summary: After Glenda enters adulthood in Africa, she deals with her own killing problem while Chucky is out to get her.


MY NAME IS GLENDA LEE RAY. ALL OF MY LIFE, I HAVE WANTED TO FLY. IT HAS BEEN MY ONLY DREAM THAT I HAVE THOUGHT OF DAY AND NIGHT, BEYOND EVERY SHADOW AND LIGHT. I'M NOT LIKE NORMAL LITTLE GTIRLS, THAT DREAM OF THE BARBIE DOLL WITH THE MOST EXPENSIVE HAIR, OR THE STUPID LITTLE PINK "BRATZ" JEEPS. I DON'T REALLY CARE ABOUT THINGS LIKE THAT. I'M A DARK LITTLE GIRL, AND I NEED PSYCHIATRIC HELP. AND I KNOW IT, NO MATTER WHAT THE OTHER KIDS TELL ME. I DON'T CARE, EITHER. I DON'T CARE WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK. I NEED MY BROTHER AND MY MOMMY, AND ONLY THEM. MY DADDY WAS MEAN. I ONLY MET HIM ONCE, BUT I JUST REMEMBER HOW MUCH I HATED HIM. ALL MY LIFE, I'VE WANTED TO FLY. THIS IS MY STORY ABOUT HOW I GOT TO FLY. HOW I LEARNED THE ONLY WAY I EVER COULD OR WOULD FLY. DID I EVER? OR AM I STILL HERE ON THE BORING EARTH?

------------------------------CURSE OF CHUCKY--------------------------------------------------

"Honey," called Jennifer. She was putting on her earrings. "Glen! Glenda!" The adorable little twins ran in, their red cheeks, their red hair flowing. They both just sat smiling at her. She looked annoyed. "Why are you looking at me that way? Get ready for your party, it's coming up in about fifteen minutes. I've been getting phone calls like mad about why we're already two hours late." She ran out the door, spraying perfume. Glen and Glenda looked at each other, and rolled their eyes- they were a lot closer than most young siblings, even though they were twins. They were close even to be twins!

However, that didn't at all alter the fact that their personalities were polar opposite. Glen was a little cheerful goody-goody with a British accent that was unexplainable to anyone not in on their little secret (usually the people screaming for their lives whilst being disemboweled) and Glenda was a cold and calculating Black Widow, which was very strange since she was only at the ripe age of five. She murdered with every little boy she could find, and murdered every old man she could find- she waltzed outside the house in a leather jacket and went down the dark alleys with the homeless people that couldn't be tracked back to her. If any of them at any point went and decided to be defiant in any way shape or form, she would torture them rather than kill them without much pain. She also occasionally would go after women… she wasn't picky. She had already killed more people than most adult serial killers or war generals.

Perhaps she was so bloodthirsty because her family had been accustomed to enjoying the treats of murdering for generation after generation. But that wasn't at all the main part in her life. The only things that she cared about were her family themselves. Anyone other than her family could die, and she could do it with no problem. Amazingly enough, her mother was raising her to be this way. After all, her mother was that way and had been from a very early age.

But Glenda did not know at all much about her father. She met him once, a tall masculine asshole of a doll, with red hair flowing from the back of his scalp to his "arms". He was screaming at Tiff, calling her a bitch, and he meant it. And Glenda remembered walking in on her parents the night before, looking for somebody to kill--they were on their bed, watching "Roseanne". She could hear the rants of the screechy bitch. Was her family that bad when it came to being nice? It was apparently so. She didn't like that. And that night she went into her room and started listening to radio songs, all depressed. Who should she kill? She began to think that maybe what she was doing was wrong. And then she listened to the song on the radio:

_An old man turned ninety-eight  
He won the lottery and died the next day  
It's a black fly in your chardonnay  
It's a death row pardon two minutes too late  
Isn't it ironic... don't you think?_

It's like rain on your wedding day  
It's a free ride when you've already paid  
It's the good advice that you just didn't take  
Who would've thought... it figures.

Mr. play it safe was afraid to fly  
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye  
He waited his whole damn life to take that flight  
And as the plane crashed down he thought  
"well isn't this nice..."  
And isn't it ironic... don't you think?

It's like rain on your wedding day  
It's a free ride when you've already paid  
It's the good advice that you just didn't take  
Who would've thought... it figures.

Well life has a funny way of sneaking up on you  
When you think everything's okay and everything's going right  
And life has a funny way of helping you out when  
You think everything's gone wrong and everything blows up  
In your face.

A traffic jam when you're already late  
A no-smoking sign on your cigarette break  
It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife  
It's meeting the man of my dreams  
And then meeting his beautiful wife  
And isn't it ironic... don't you think?  
A little too ironic... and yeah i really do think...

It's like rain on your wedding day  
It's a free ride when you've already paid  
It's the good advice that you just didn't take  
Who would've thought... it figures.

Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you  
Life has a funny, funny way of helping you out  
Helping you out.

Glenda switched off the radio and thought about her predicament. It really was ironic. Everyone in her family was a killer. Her parents both were, her mom was trying to quit. Her brother didn't think he wanted to be a killer. Now she was more of a killer than any of them, and she was wondering whether or not she should keep on. Was it wrong? No. It can't be.

And in the present, she had outdone her entire family put together when it came to killing, and she was not happy. And she could not understand why.


End file.
